The Sword Reaches to the Heart
by da-angel729
Summary: Molly Weasley has always been strong for others. There will come a time when she has to be strong for herself. That day is today. Written before DH and canon-compliant through HBP.


**Disclaimer/Author's Notes:** I don't own anything but the plot; the characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Originally written for the **hptarot** community on LiveJournal with a prompt of _Strength_. As always, con crit and feedback is appreciated!

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**The Sword Reaches to the Heart**

It was easy when they were younger.

Before life, and the unfairness of it, caught my children in its web. Before they saw destruction, and death, of all that they loved. Of people they loved.

When my children were younger, I could fix a problem with a kiss and a spell. I was constantly performing Healing spells, especially on Fred and George. And iReparo/i. Those two could get into more trouble than the rest of the children combined.

I love my children, and I usually ilike/i them. Sometimes, though, when they were all at home, I wanted nothing more to run screaming out the door, never to return. When I felt that way, I would clean. I hated cleaning back when Arthur and I first married. Now, it calms me.

Arthur worked so hard, and he was so good at his job. It was a good job for him, and he became the Head of the Department early. He should have been promoted to a higher position before Ginny's fifth year, but that's life. He would come home from work, exhausted, and though he always spent time with the children, I feel Bill, being the oldest and the one who was most interested in his Muggle nonsense, benefited the most.

The children were such a handful, especially once there were seven of them. I love all my children, and yet it was a relief when Bill left for Hogwarts. I refused to feel guilty about that, for by that time, Ginny was just beginning to crawl around the house, and she had a knack for finding the tiniest hiding spaces, with the help of Fred and George, of course. I missed Bill, my firstborn, so much, and so did the children. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny cried constantly the day Bill left. And have you ever tried to quiet four screaming kids in a train station? I was completely mortified, but Arthur took Fred and George, and we distracted them by getting a treat on the way home.

It was easier when Charlie left. The other children had been used to Bill being gone, Percy, Fred, and George had lessons, and Ron was starting to learn to read. Percy was there to help with lessons, but he was only eight and Fred and George loved to disrupt schoolwork. How they even learned anything is beyond me, but then they have always been smarter than most people, including me, give them credit for.

I was almost distraught when Percy left for school. He was the rule follower, and he never caused a moment of trouble since he'd become the oldest child left at home. He'd caused plenty before that, though I hardly remember that now. Or how much I loved him, since he never came back to us before he died. It's hard to remember that now, though I wish I could.

I never thought I would miss the trouble Fred and George caused when they left for school, but I did. Ron and Ginny were quite a handful on their own, though. The twins had probably taught them. I received an Owl from Minerva only two days after the twins arrived at Hogwarts, explaining they had already been given detention, for turning the Pumpkin Juice in Severus' glass at dinner time turn to water. I have no idea, even now, how they managed it.

Ron went to school two years later, and he's the one I worried about the most, especially after he became friends with Harry. They had an aptitude for finding trouble, and it wasn't the same kind of prank pulling that Fred and George engaged in. Ron and Harry, and Hermione, had a knack for finding trouble that could get them killed. I worried constantly about them all, but especially Ron. As the youngest son, he held a special place in my heart. He was always so anxious to prove he was as good as his brothers, but all he had to do was be himself. I'm glad he finally figured that out, though of course he had a lot of help from Hermione, smart girl that she is.

And Ginny. My youngest, my only daughter. The most precious of them all, and quite stubborn. Once, when Ginny was ten, she screamed at me that I didn't need to protect her from everything, and I snapped right back that she was still a child and needed my protection. She stormed away, convinced she was right, and I went to the kitchen and cleaned it, convinced I was right. When Arthur came home that night, I told him about what happened, and he laughed. He said Ginny was just as stubborn as her mother, and he couldn't wait to see who won the next argument.

When Ginny was eleven, and we almost lost her, I nearly fell apart. But there was no time. She came home for the summer and said everything was fine, but I knew that it wasn't. Mothers have an intuition about their children, and Ginny was not fine. Her eyes, though they still sparkled with life, had lost a touch of their innocence. I wish I could have protected her from that. She was so young, and when she came home, she was not the same. She became more introspective, and compassionate, and stubborn. She also had nightmares. Arthur would hold her sometimes, when the nightmares were too much.

Oh, Arthur. He was so silly, with his Muggle object fascination, yet he loved all his children, and me. He provided a good life for us, and if we didn't always have quite enough money, none of our children starved nor lacked a roof over their heads. And we always had each other. He was my love, my life, and he's gone.

And now, as I stand by my husband's grave, staring straight ahead with tears in my eyes, I only wish someone could comfort me with a kiss and a spell. But they can't. There is no one for me to hold onto, since I lost Arthur, my rock. I can't fall apart. It's not permitted, and it never will happen. Because I still have my children, who now longer have a father. I have to be strong for them, like I always have been.

It was easy when they were younger. Before life, and the unfairness of it, caught my children in its web. Before they saw destruction, and death, of all that they loved. Of people they loved.

Now, it's not so easy.


End file.
